


Heartlines

by nolightss



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Deaf Character, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolightss/pseuds/nolightss
Summary: ‘Please, please don’t be sorry. It’s- It’s hard for hearing folks, you know? It’s hard for them to imagine being anything other than hearing and being proud of that fact. You’ve known me so long that it’s not weird to you, though, so this transition makes more sense. It’s your community too, you know.'
 Deaf Gerard, Deaf Frank, self acceptance and growing up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm hard of hearing, I've been meaning to write a fic where both parties are Deaf for a damn long time, so here it is, finally. 
> 
> Title from Heartlines by Florence + The Machine, as usual.

Frank moved to a new town when he was nine. Nothing made any sense, at first, and the only constant so far had been this one kid Frank spotted on his way in that morning, sitting in the back of the class. He was alternating between scribbling intensely on the notebook in front of him and chewing on his nails, and he was also sitting next to the last empty seat in the classroom. Frank sat next to him, and watched the boy draw. There were spaceships, and vampires, and possibly vampires _on_ spaceships, which was _totally_ _awesome_.

“Hey, I like your drawings,” Frank said, and the kid didn’t really make any motion to indicate that he’d heard what Frank said, and, well, maybe he hadn’t, so Frank tapped his shoulder. The boy looked at him suddenly, as if Frank startled him, so he’d said again, “Your drawings are really cool.”

The boy stared at his mouth while he talked, furrowed his brow, and bit his lip. He ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook and scrawled something on it, and then handed it to Frank.

It read, _sorry, i can’t really hear you,_ in the worst handwriting Frank had ever seen, and his own was truly illegible, so that’s saying something. He unearthed a pencil from the depths of his backpack, and replied underneath.

 _i said i like your drawings! also i’m frank._ he passed it back to the kid, who read it with wide eyes, and then wrote back, _i’m gerard,_ started to pass it to Frank, then snatched it back, and added, _thank you!!!!!!_ Frank laughed, and Gerard cracked a goofy smile behind his weird wiry hair. Frank liked him already.

 

* * *

 

Gerard teaches Frank the alphabet during recess a few days later. Frank’s been carrying around a notebook _specifically_ for Gerard since their meeting. Frank wrote their names on the cover in his best handwriting, and Gerard drew a zombie on it and it looks awesome. They’re sitting in the corner of the playground, behind a bunch of bushes, and Gerard is writing furiously in their notebook.

 _i’m going to teach you how to sign the alphabet. i’ve known how to sign since pretty much forever but if we’re going to be friends then you have to know too so it’s easier. if that’s okay, i mean. it’s up to you,_ and then the letters trail off a little, probably from nerves, and Frank nods really hard when he reads it, because he really does want to learn how to talk to Gerard better, because Gerard is super cool and he has a Star Wars folder for his homework and they need to discuss the X-Men even more than they already have. The nervous expression on Gerard’s face fades, and he sits up very straight and holds his hand up. He’s holding it in kind of a fist, and Frank tries to mimic it. Gerard giggles and reaches over and fixes his fingers, uncurling them so they’re flat against his palm, and then untucking his thumb from inside his fist. Gerard makes a little ‘ta-da’ gesture with his hands, and Frank laughs, and hopes he’ll get better at making his fingers do what he wants them to do.

 

That night, Frank turns the light back on after he’s supposed to be sleeping, and stands in front of his dresser mirror, and practices all the hand shapes Gerard had taught him that day. He thinks it’s getting easier the more he does it, but maybe he’s just tired and can’t really see straight.

 

“Hey Mom?” Frank asks, sprawled out on the living room sofa one day and growing bored of counting the specks and cracks on the ceiling.

His Mother regards him from over the top of her book. “Yes, Honey?” It’s a little dry, like she’s expecting another far-fetched request of large and dangerous proportions. Frank flops over onto his stomach and regards her in return.

“Can I take a sign language class?” She looks at him, maybe a little thrown off, but doesn’t answer. “It’s just,” Frank continues, “My new best friend Gerard is deaf and I want to talk to him without a pencil and paper ‘cause we’re running out of space in our notebook and-”

“Yes,” she says, and looks at him fondly, smiling just a little, and turns back to her book. Frank fist pumps into the air, because _hell yes,_ and then runs upstairs to keep practicing what Gerard had taught him the other day. The shapes for 'M' and 'N' are getting a little easier to tell apart, he thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a Friday afternoon. It's raining, and drops on the window cast spotty shadows on the room. Frank's sitting on the floor next to the bed, idly messing around on his guitar, and Gerard's sitting across from him, back against the amp with a sketchbook on his lap, feeling the vibrations as Frank plays. His hair is falling in two almost-perfect curtains beside his face, and his fingers are stained grey from the pencils in his hand. He looks relaxed in a way he never does at school. Frank feels fortunate to see that. He stretches his leg out, and taps Gerards knee with his foot, and Gerard looks up.  
  
_'Thank you for-'_ he signs, and hesitates, not sure how to put it. _'For being here,'_ he finishes. Gerard smiles warmly at him. eyes shining just a little, but maybe it’s a trick of the light.  
  
_'Thank_ **_you_** _,'_ he replies, emphatically, turning the _you_ back to Frank. Frank keeps his foot pressed against Gerard's leg, and feels safe.

•

Their first kiss is in their junior year, after several months of tentative hand-holding and trying to figure out if the other _really_ likes them, or not like _that_ . And then after gym class, Frank finds Gerard curled up in the corner of the locker room, having a minor panic over how the other kids in their class were _definitely_ talking about him, and how they _definitely_ hate him. Frank's pretty sure they weren’t, but Gerard's anxiety is a hell of a beast, and his hands are shaking and his sign is sort of messy, so Frank just sits next to him and holds his hands and breathes until Gerards breath evens out and his hands are still again.  
  
_‘Why are you so good to me?’_ he asks, barely meeting Frank's eyes. Frank thinks about that, how this isn't really a _‘I’m deaf'_ related statement, and how it's more an _‘I’m anxious and depressed’_ related statement.  
  
_‘Because you're my best friend'_ Frank answers, making sure to look Gerard in the eye, _‘Because the bad things in your head don't define you. And I love you_. _’_  
  
Gerard flushes at the last statement, and Frank wants to laugh at how Gerard's the least-blunt Deaf person he’s ever met.  
  
_‘How?’_ Gerard asks, every emotion very clear on his face and signing rather slowly.  
  
Frank kisses him.  
  
It's not very deep or intense, but he does get a hand in Gerard's hair at some point, and Gerard feels impossibly warm under his fingers. He pulls back and Gerard is still so pink, eyes huge and clear. He takes Frank's hand, and kisses the back of it, and then signs a quick _thank you,_ eyes still fixed on Frank's face.

 •

They kiss a lot after that. A lot of forehead kisses and kisses on the cheek between classes and makeout sessions in the secluded back hallway where they usually eat lunch.

Frank thinks he probably knew all along that he was totally in love with his best friend, but now he's so aware of how Gerard's face lights up and he shows all his teeth when he talks about comics, how it makes Frank feel bright and alive in his chest. How he looks when he's concentrating _so_ intensely during their painting class, the one class where the teacher doesn't care if he takes off his hearing aids and he’s finally relaxed and his face is serene and focused and a little breathtaking. Frank likes waking up next to him when he stays over. He likes signing lazily in the hazy morning light creeping through the basement window, and he likes seeing Gerard's hair mussed and his skin soft and golden.

 •

When Frank first hits the point where he realizes, shit, it's not just that he's distracted and missing things, it's that he really can't hear the teacher very well at all, he goes through this internal panic that’s mixed with guilt that he's even panicking at all. He texts Gerard under the desk minorly freaking out.

When he sees Gerard after school, he’s sweet, as always, and talks to him about maybe going to the doctor, how it's not unheard of for this stuff to show up later, how he knows some people at the events he goes to that've lost their hearing later in life, and it's okay. It’ll be okay. He takes Frank’s hand as they walk home, and Frank feels comforted and much less alone.

• 

The basement is warm, almost too warm, when Frank arrives, and at first he can’t find Gerard in the mess of clothes and art supplies scattered across the floor. He’s in the back corner, though, laid out on his stomach with a million comic books and all his markers spread out around him. He looks completely in his own head, and just watching him Frank feels a little bit of his mood ebb. He sits cross-legged on the floor across from Gerard, trying his best not to startle him, and Gerard looks up. His face comes alight when he sees Frank, but it flickers when he sees the anxiety that must be present on Frank’s face.  
  
_‘What’s up? Did Mikey let you in?’_ he asks, and Frank nods. He picks at a loose thread in the carpet, trying to get the words for what he needs to say. _‘Are you okay?’_  
  
_‘I’m not sure?’_ Frank doesn’t mean it to come out like a question, but it does, brow furrowed and unsure. ‘ _My mom and I were fighting. Or something. We never fight, so I don’t really know if that’s what it was.'_ Frank pauses, and Gerard’s now sitting across from him, close, trailing circles against Frank’s jeans with his fingers as he watches. He nods. ‘ _She wants me to get hearing aids, or something. I don’t think I really need them yet, my grades are fine as-is and we’re graduating so soon. She says I’m just delaying the inevitable but I don’t know if I want it to ever happen, and I don’t think that’s a shame thing, I think it’s the opposite, but I don’t think she gets that at all.’_ Frank realizes he’s rushing, hands moving too quickly, trying to get the words out as fast as he can so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. Gerard’s still for a beat, and Frank adds, ‘ _This is dumb, isn’t it. I’m s-’_ Gerard cuts him off there, shaking his head and covering Frank’s hands for a second.  
  
_‘Please, please don’t be sorry. It’s- It’s hard for hearing folks, you know? It’s hard for them to imagine being anything other than hearing and being proud of that fact. You’ve known me so long that it’s not weird to you, though, so this transition makes more sense.’_ Frank blinks, and makes a questioning face. _‘I’m not saying it’s easy, though! Not that it’s hard though- I mean. I can’t say it from experience that I know how you feel but I know what it’s like to be unsure of your place in the world. It’s your community too, you know.’_  
  
Frank knew that, on an intellectual level. He knew that technically his presence in Deaf spaces wouldn’t be as odd now as it was. Having Gerard tell him that, though, it feels like something is shifting in him just enough for a little relief to wash over him.

He must’ve been quiet for longer than he thought, because Gerard’s tipping his chin up and kissing him, quick and easy, and then smiling hugely, eyes wide. _‘Good?’_ he asks. Frank nods. _‘You wanna help me fill in the backgrounds on these pages? It’s easy stuff, I promise.’_ He winks at that, and Frank laughs and picks up the nearest marker.

 •

The tour guide is tall and blonde, and he’s wearing thick rimmed glasses. The gallery is empty besides the tour, and Frank feels more at home than he expected himself to. They’re looking at paintings by Edward Hopper, who Frank knows a bit about, mostly from Gerard’s talks and the big heavy art books his mom keeps under the coffee table. Gerard had texted him about the tour a couple weeks ago, a link to a webpage and a handful of various heart emoticons, so they took the train across the river and made a date out of it.

The painting in front of them is of a woman, sitting in an armchair and watching out the window. Her face isn’t showing, but Frank thinks she looks sad, like she’s missing someone.

 _‘Perhaps Hopper’s work is not necessarily a representation of personal isolation or loneliness, and his subjects are not lonely, just alone. They simply are, in the most existential sense,’_ the guide tells them.

Frank thinks that perhaps he’s not as alone has he thinks he is.

 •

There’s a little reception after the tour. People are milling around, and there’s a table of assorted drinks and nice cheese with little place cards stating the different types. Gerard says that “Ameribella” sounds like the daughter of an wealthy dignitary who lives in the country in their fancy mansion in the hills in 1887. Frank agrees.

 _‘And “Ringwell” just sounds like an infection,’_ he finishes, giggling when Frank cracks up spectacularly. _‘“Brie” is a totally acceptable name for a thing that you eat. Why can’t they all be like that, Frank?’_ He looks genuinely worried, which makes Frank laugh even harder, and then he notices the guy standing near them, valiantly trying not to laugh and completely failing. Gerard looks over too, notices him, and goes to introduce himself while Frank makes an effort to compose himself.  
  
_‘...and this is Frank,’_ Gerard tells the guy, who’s smiling bigger than anyone Frank’s ever seen. Frank waves a little.  
  
_‘I’m Ray,’_ the guy tells them, and then asks Gerard about cheese, which makes Gerard blush spectacularly because apparently it’s embarrassing to be overheard making fun of cheese names in an environment where the cups aren’t plastic.

They learn that Ray’s a year older than them, a freshman in college studying engineering. He’s from Jersey too, and then they get wrapped up in stories about high school, how Gerard has known Frank since the dawn of time, and how Frank is _‘kinda new at the Deaf community thing, to be honest.’_ He feels bad for being nervous as he says it. Ray must pick up on it, though.  
  
_‘You have a place here, we all start somewhere.’_ He smiles at Frank, friendly and open. _‘Even if that starting point is overhearing a cheese conversation,’_ he says, and he shoots a glance at Gerard as he does, who rolls his eyes dramatically in mock irritation. Ray laughs again, this time with his whole body, and Frank smiles at Gerard all innocent, trying to hide his own giggles.

• 

They get coffee after, at this cute little place they pass on the way to the subway. It’s cute and cozy, with chalkboards behind the counter of all the different brews and it makes Frank laugh a little because he knows Gerard’s just going to get the most basic black coffee they have. They sit by the window and talk about art, and Ray, and how maybe Frank wants to study art history, and Gerard kisses him. He’s leaned awkwardly over the table, and Frank’s craning his neck weirdly, but it’s sweet and homey. Frank can’t stop smiling.

 •

Frank falls out of habit with his guitar without really meaning to. He still listens to music, though, leaning on his stereo and running his fingers over the textured speakers and trying to place words for why songs he's heard a thousand times sound so different now.

He’s with Gerard after school one day, sitting on the curb outside the 7-11 by Frank’s house. He’s avoiding going home, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t even exactly know why.  
  
_‘Do you still play?’_ Gerard asks, genuinely curious, and Frank doesn’t exactly know what to say. He shrugs.  
  
_‘Not really. I’m out of the habit, and I’m not sure why I don’t feel more strongly about at least trying to get back into it.’_ It’s the truth. Part of him feels sort of empty without it, but he’s not angry, either. _Acceptance,_ his brain supplies, but he doesn’t feel like he’s reached that yet. He says as much to Gerard.  
  
Gerard looks a little spaced out for a second, trying to find the words. _‘I think acceptance is a process. It’s not the buried treasure you fight the dragon to get to, it’s the things you learn to get to the treasure in the first place.’_  
  
Frank stares at him for a second, truly lost for an answer, and Gerard holds his hand. They watch cars pull in and out of the lot and the birds perching on the power lines, and the world feels small and safe.

• 

It’s really, really bright. The field is a golden shade of green, and all the chairs lined up look too perfect for the teenage disarray that will soon occupy them. Frank’s not really paying attention to anything, though. Waiting for _A_ through _H_ to be called and not knowing where they even are on that list is not doing anything to help his nerves, and the back of the guy in front of him’s head isn’t that entertaining either. He’d been looking back at Gerard periodically, signing nonsense over everyone’s head and making him laugh, but since he’s turned the corner, he can’t even do that. Eventually, he’s standing a few steps back from the stage, nerves ramping back up again, watching _Hudson_ cross the stage. Frank’s not sure he’s aware when the the lady next to the stairs beckons him over, and his body is working entirely on autopilot.

The stage seems much bigger that it did earlier now that Frank’s standing on it, and the diploma in his hand feels heavier than it should. He shakes some hands, feels a little bit dazed, and walks down the steps at the front of the stage and stands under the arch.

People are clapping, Frank’s dimly aware, but everything just sounds like a wall of noise right now. He smiles for his mom, and tries his best not to look too uncomfortable, but then looks again at the almost-glowing field. Nobody’s clapping anymore. Instead, there are rows and rows hands in the air, palms out, shaking back and forth, and suddenly he feels like he’s in his own body again. Everything feels less numb, and the applause he sees before him feels never-ending and overwhelming. It’s not bad-overwhelming, he realizes, and there’s a grin splitting his face and tears threatening behind his eyes. He tries not to trip on his way back to his seat, and then tries not to cry as he takes his seat.

Waiting for Gerard is even more agonizing than waiting for his own name. When he finally, _finally,_ walks out, he’s smiling hugely from the minute he shakes the principal’s hand until he’s standing under the little trellis arch. Frank raises his own hands in applause, and out of the corner of his eye catches someone up front doing the same, and then another, and then everyone around him, and Gerard is positively glowing in the spectacular sunlight.

 •

Gerard’s room is a disaster. Even more so than usual, if that was possible. There are a couple suitcases open on his bed, and several big plastic tubs scattered around the room half filled with a random assortment of items. Frank is currently assessing the truly alarming amount of art supplies Gerard owns, while Gerard sifts through his mess of a dresser. Something hits Frank on the shoulder, a ball of socks, he notices, and he turns to look at Gerard.  
  
_‘How many pairs of socks do I even need to bring to college?’_ he asks, and Frank chucks the balled up socks in his lap back at him.  
  
_‘All of them, Gerard, holy shit.’_ Gerard squints at him. Frank squints back.  
  
_‘Fine,’_ Gerard relents, and begins excavating the open drawer. Frank decides the art supplies can wait, and goes to sit next to the dresser and try and match the mismatched socks Gerard is stuffing into the suitcase. Another pair of socks hits him on the head. He looks up at Gerard, about to tell him to shove the socks _somewhere,_ he hadn’t decided yet, and then Gerard signs, _‘I’m going to miss you,’_ and he looks kind of sad, actually.  
  
_‘We’re going to be a 20 minute train ride apart, it’s not that far,’_ Frank tells him.  
  
_‘Yeah, but it’s further than we are now. And we won’t see each other at school.’_  
  
Frank gets up from his laundry nest and hugs Gerard, pulling him as close as he possibly can. He pulls back a little, kisses Gerard’s cheek, and buries his face back in Gerard’s shoulder.  
  
They sit like that for awhile. Gerard’s hands are in Frank’s hair, and it’s pretty comfortable despite all the clothes they’re half-sitting on. Gerard pulls back eventually, and looks at Frank with intent.  
  
_‘Promise you’ll get comics with me every Wednesday that you can,’_ he says, eyes very serious. Frank laughs.  
  
_‘As if I could_ **_ever_ ** _break that habit,’_ he answers, and Gerard smiles at him, bites his lip, and then kisses Frank. Frank doesn’t want to let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Steph and Amber. 
> 
> The painting mentioned is [Eleven A.M.](https://www.wikiart.org/en/edward-hopper/eleven-a-m) by Edward Hopper. The Whitney Museum of Art in NYC has a team of Deaf art educators and does tours in ASL for Deaf and hearing folks. You can learn more about that [here.](http://whitney.org/Education/Access/WhitneySigns)
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](http://weenhand.tumblr.com), I'd love to hear reactions and questions about this universe. I've gotten rather attached to it, to be honest. Thanks for reading.


End file.
